Tom Allen
Maine Island, Maine

Every summer for more than a quarter of a century, my wife and I have loaded food, wine, beer, and books into a rowboat with a cranky outboard motor and headed out to an island three miles [4.8 kilometers] off the coast of Maine.

The island does not have much—the steady crash of waves against great stacks of rocks, the chattering of hundreds of gulls, the firs topped by osprey nests. The house has no electricity. The ancient wood stove defies cookbook recipes. The sulphurous water comes from a well 200 yards [183 meters] away.

In sun, rain, and fog, there is sameness about the island, day after day, year after year. Yet, in exploring that sameness—climbing over familiar rocks, picking blackberries, skinny-dipping in frigid water—we find the enduring variety that draws us back. We always call the first day there our New Year’s Day.

Tom Allen is a NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC writer-editor.